


Deja-Vu

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: HiGH&LOW (Movies), HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: HIGH&LOW - Freeform, M/M, Murayama is a literal puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: Cobra resists the urge to scream that of course he knows why Murayama shows up every other week, pining like a lost puppy. Of course he knows why there always seems to be a dishevelled shadow following him around when he least expects it. Part of him resists the urge to just fuck all tradition and let Murayama join, if not for the simple reason it would be purely just to have him around and it would be selfish. It doesn’t stop him from thinking about it though.





	Deja-Vu

Really, it was getting predictable to the point of frequent Deja-vu. The night was bitterly cold and with each breath, a cloud of condensation escaped briefly, his hands stuffed comfortably in his pockets to avoid the chill. Cobra might humour people, but he does still have a pair of intact eyes, currently flickering to a street corner where a familiar tuft of brown hair was bobbing nervously. The shadow of the figure shifted from foot to foot, a futile attempt to stay warm.

Murayama tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Cobra to cross the road seemed to be taking forever, the man never seemed rushed. Yet, like clockwork, he would walk past this very corner every single evening. Furuya attempted to tell Murayama that ‘normal people don’t just wait on street corners hoping for someone to walk by’, but in the spirit of Oya high’s unspoken rule to never question their leader and his weird inclinations and insanity, Furuya dropped it after a sharp look was directed towards him.

“Murayama.” Cobra greets him effortlessly, pausing to stand opposite to Murayama, noting the absence of his trademark bandana.

“Cobra-chan,” Murayama acknowledges him excitedly, still shifting from foot to foot and shaking with uncontrollable energy. Cobra almost laughs at the sight of him, always running on unlimited energy- so much so, he doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen Murayama stand entirely still. “Have you given it any more thought then?” Murayama continues, stopping his movements briefly to stare intently at the man standing so closely to him.

Of course, it would be easy for Cobra to just tell him he has given it thought and that he cannot imagine a conceivable universe in which Murayama, the self-proclaimed ‘king’ of Oya high, would be accepted into the Sannoh Association. Naturally, if Cobra were to insist, he is certain the group would attempt to accept him. Except that there is no reason to. Beyond the fact that Furuya and Seki would probably commit Seppuku before letting their King go, Cobra simply doesn’t want to acknowledge Murayama’s motivations for asking to join in the first place.

“Why so quiet, Cobra-Chan?” Murayama questions, tilting his head in a way that reminded Cobra simultaneously of a small dog and an inquisitive child. It still didn’t stop the slight smile from turning the corner of his lips upwards at the sight, wondering when exactly he started being the type to encourage such requests on a regular basis.

“Have you got a license yet?” Cobra questions, fully aware that the odds of Murayama having obtained a license are about as likely as Yamato turning down a free meal. He can’t help but stare at the pout starting to form on Murayama’s face, the perfect mix of innocence and exasperation. It would be more effective if not for the fact this conversation has taken place at least five times in the past month and each time Murayama gets no closer to his alleged goal of joining Sannoh, and Cobra no closer to telling him to give it up.

“Come on Cobra-chan!” Murayama whines, letting out a strong exhale. “Are you honestly telling me all of your guys have licenses?” he questions, a tone of indignation accompanied by an exaggerated head movement.

Whilst Cobra doesn’t doubt for one second that some of his guys are driving without licenses, most at least passed their tests before they had theirs either taken from them or misplaced in some fight or another. The thought of Murayama even attempting to ride a motorcycle in a straight line just to the end of the street makes Cobra want to both laugh and cry at the likely collateral damage.

“Yes, I am honestly telling you that my guys have licences. Can you even drive a car?” Cobra challenges, opting not to allow Murayama the leeway of mentioning the slight half-truth he was providing to save the residents of Sannoh.

Murayama stares thoughtfully, his pupils reflecting the street light so brightly Cobra feels momentarily winded, the usually wild and unfocused eyes suddenly seeming to effervescent and too intense to stare directly into. “Of _course_ I can. Well, if that truck we had counts.” He replies, his voice tapering off as he seems to evaluate the sincerity of his own statement.

“No. It doesn’t. You didn’t even drive that.” Cobra sighs, running his hand through his hair to push his stray hairs back, momentarily freezing at the look Murayama was giving him. Cobra couldn’t quite figure out what the look was indicating because Murayama seemed to always have a look of psychotic excitement on his face, just at varying degrees of intensity. But this look did seem softer, especially when coupled with his relaxed appearance out of his school uniform, his hair looking even softer than usual.

“Cobra-chan,” Murayama begins, stepping so close to Cobra’s personal space he feels momentarily taken-aback, before a feeling of apprehension fills him at the sight, “Hey, Cobra-chan, are you still with me?” he sing-songs, nudging Cobra’s arm playfully.

“Why do you carry on coming here to ask me these questions?” Cobra retorts, his cheeks burning at the way Murayama’s head briefly rested against his shoulder, his brown hair tickling at his neck. “You already know what I’m going to say to you.”

“I think you know why I do it. I thought _I_ was supposed to be the stupid one.” Murayama replies in a dull voice, prodding himself in the cheek to reiterate his statement, stepping closer until there was barely room to breathe between them. “Could it be? Cobra-Chan is _slower_ than I am?” he whispered with glee, grinning at the glare he received.

Cobra resists the urge to scream that of course he knows why Murayama shows up every other week, pining like a lost puppy. Of _course_ he knows why there always seems to be a dishevelled shadow following him around when he least expects it. Part of him resists the urge to just fuck all tradition and let Murayama join, if not for the simple reason it would be purely just to have him around and it would be selfish. It doesn’t stop him from thinking about it though.

“I doubt that.” Cobra states dryly, fingers twitching in their urge to brush Murayama’s curls out of his wild eyes. Before he even has a chance to acknowledge that Murayama is pushing him into the wall, it is already too late. The bricks bite into his back in a way that doesn’t hurt but is merely an uncomfortable sensation.

“Cobra- _chan_ ,” Murayama breathes against his neck, his breath seeming even hotter when compared to the chill surrounding everything else, “stop playing hard to get.” He whispers, gently nudging Cobra’s chin up so he can place a small kiss on his jawline.

Suddenly its Cobra’s turn to be imbued with nervous energy he can’t seem to contain, it’s like every inch of him is moving or on fire, his fingers moving up to touch Murayama’s hair in a gesture that is seemingly innocent, until it is accompanied by Murayama’s breathy moan.

“ _You’re killing me_.” Murayama hissed, losing all patience with the situation and pressing himself comfortably against Cobra, standing slightly on his toes to kiss him with all the vigour he could muster, appreciating that Cobra’s fingers remained permanently tangled in his hair, giving him something to keep him grounded. _Shit_. There’s not going to be a speech Cobra can use to get out of this one. He’s not really sure he’d want to. Cobra briefly moves his fingers from their residence in Murayama’s hair and he whines. Actually _whines._ Cobra would be lying if he said it didn’t knock the wind out of his lungs and make him never want to cease having some form of physical contact with Murayama ever again.

“Murayama...,” He breathes, chest rising and falling heavily, “do you really think this is a good idea?” he murmurs, stepping sideways to give himself some breathing room.

Murayama visibly wilts, all his energy seeming to evaporate with the cold chill passing them by.

“I mean do you really think it’s a good idea to be doing this in _public_ ,” Cobra chastises, “dumbass.” Murayama’s face softens instantly, practically leaping forward to grab Cobra’s hand in a display of blinding excitement and affection that only Murayama could pull off. Cobra offers a shy smile, enjoying the simplicity of having Murayama hanging onto his arm excitedly. It’s awkward trying to walk at a regular pace and Murayama’s insistence to have both arms around Cobra’s one arm means there is very limited mobility, but Cobra doesn’t think he would ever have the heart to tell him to just hold hands like a regular person. _I guess you aren’t regular._ Cobra muses, completely unaware of the babble coming out of Murayama’s mouth in hyperactive droves.

“Say, Cobra-Chan,” Murayama starts, getting Cobra’s full attention by pressing his cheek against Cobra’s shoulder and pouting, “you really are evil. Having me wait in the cold all this time and leading me on like that.”

“Carry on and I will leave you out in the cold.” Cobra replies, deadpan. Murayama looks momentarily suspicious until he is greeted with a genuine smile, Cobra opening the door to his apartment shyly, finally inviting Murayama into his life for good.

“So, are you gonna give me a set of keys or what, Cobra-chan?” Murayama sings, skipping in delightedly.

“Shut up, Yoshiki.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is hopefully the first of many dedicated high&low stories, feel free to leave any feedback :)


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